Arrival
by Bubbybee
Summary: A short story set five years after the deaths of Coin and Snow, the residents of the Victor's Village find themselves host to a new arrival.
1. The Arrival

Haymitch sat slumped in the dimly lit hallway, his eyes wide open. He would stare only at his hands, save for when he would glance longingly at the shelf that once held his finest spirits, to the potted plant where he now kept his stash. He twisted the golden band on his finger around and around in his impatience. He seemed to be worried, and he had every right to be.

Every ten minutes or so, a piercing scream would emanate from the room just down the hall. Those screams brought back memories for me, and by the look on his face, it did for him, too. Memories of knowing someone you love is in pain, and not being able to do a thing to help them. My dreams were plagued with the echoing screams of Rue. Of Finnick. Even Marvel and Cato, but this was different.

I sat opposite him, in an equally uncomfortable chair in the hall of his cottage in the Victor's Village, resolutely not looking at the time. He glanced at the clock above my head, then at me. He seemed to be pleading, wanting me to tell him that everything would be OK. I offered him a weak smile. There was nothing else to do. I stood and made my way to his hidden stash, thinking to drown our sorrows, speed our waiting.

Suddenly, a bellowing wail burst forth, and I was transported back:

Children, crammed and fighting for space. Silver medicine packets falling to the ground. Screaming and fighting for life, but failing in the end. A flash of light, and my little duck was gone.

Coming back to the present, I found Haymitch hovering outside the door. These days, his hair was liberally streaked with gray, and he appeared more worn than ever, but now there was a new life in his eyes, and I realized why.

He looked back down the hall to me, and I approached him. We stood, side by side, holding our breath.

Three.

Two.

He looked at me, seeming to ask for permission.

I nodded.

One.

We burst into the room. My mother stood to the side of the room, folding towels and looking worse for wear. Her light hair was scraped back in a messy bun that seemed to want to escape. Peeta was by the window, and he turned to face me, a triumphant look in his eyes.

But the draw of attention went not to my mother or the man I love, but to a weary, sickly woman, crumpled on the bed.

Had any of her Capitol 'friends' seen Effie Trinket now, they would not have recognized her. Her once vibrant pink hair had dimmed to its natural dirty blonde; she was wearing no make up, and just a simple, white night gown. Her flawless, ivory skin was flushed and gleaming with sweat. The only indications that this woman was once a Capitol citizen were her purple contact lenses and her gloating smile.

'Well, Mr. Abernathy, I told you I could do it!' she declared in a wavering voice.

In her arms, lay a dark-haired child with sparkling green eyes.

'Sweetheart, I never doubted you.'

It should have bothered me that Haymitch had been referring to her as 'Sweetheart' recently, giving a new tone to his name for me, but it didn't. Now, instead of being sarcastic and abrasive, his tone was soft and careful.

Haymitch walked alongside her bed, and knelt down to her level. Peeta came up beside me and encircled my waist with his arm.

Haymitch reached out his hand and gently stroked the child's cheek.

The child was a curious mix of Capitol and Seam: dark hair and a creamy skin from the father, glistening green eyes and delicate features from the mother. This child was a testament to all we had worked for. This child represented all we had lost, and all we would gain in the future...

Haymitch gazed in awe at the child, his hand still resting on the newborn's face.

'Err, hello,' he started. 'Err, my name is Haymitch, but you can... You can call me dad.' His voice seemed to catch on that last word.

He shook his head in wonder. 'He's beautiful,' he whispered in amazement.

'She,' Effie countered. 'And yes, she is. It's not like she wasn't going to be. She has exceptional maternal genes.'

Haymitch seemed confused for a moment, then his face burst into a wide grin.

'My little baby girl, no one will ever hurt you, or they will have to answer to me!' he cried, planting a kiss on his wife's cheek.

'What will you name her?' asked my mother quietly. None of us had spoken since entering the room, and Effie and Haymitch seemed to have been in a world of their own.

'Well...' Haymitch began.

'Well, nothing. It's obvious, isn't it? It's Mahogany. That's the name we decided on. What else could it be?' Effie remarked.

Haymitch looked stunned for a moment, then seemed to regain his senses.

'Mahogany Abernathy... That has a certain ring to it...' he grinned.

'Mahogany TRINKET-Abernathy, I think you mean!' Effie cut in indignantly.

'Really, Sweetheart? We've been over this: it won't fit on the mailbox and at any rate...'

Effie and Haymitch squabbled playfully and Peeta steered me from the room, closing the door behind us. He guided me to my chair, and sat in the one Haymitch had recently vacated.

I tried to imagine Peeta being in Haymitch's place: sitting, agitated in that chair, fidgeting and having to listen to endless screaming. No, he would be in there, wanting to help the best he could, like he did for Effie. Then I tried to imagine me in Effie's place, but the thought made me sick to my stomach, and I pushed it away.

Haymitch and Effie seemed happy, but I couldn't imagine subjecting a child to such a cruel fate as to live in our world. It was such a sick, twisted place. No place for a child.

Peeta seemed to sense my thoughts.

'Katniss, things are getting better.' he said gently as he placed a hand on my knee, 'We are making a difference. The times are changing, and they will only improve. Haymitch and Effie have brought Mahogany into a better place than you or I was brought into. We, as a nation, are moving on. I know that we'll never forget, and we don't have to, we can't. But we need to keep going with our lives. Katniss...' he trailed off.

Since discovering that Effie was pregnant, I could see the hope and desire in Peeta's eyes. He wanted children. I couldn't stand to see any more suffer at the hands of an unjust society. We had had this conversation, this argument so many times in so many ways but it always ended in the same way.

He reached over and wiped a tear from my cheek. I hadn't even realized that I was crying. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I didn't want to hurt him any more, but I couldn't help it.

'Peeta... I-I can't. I'm sorry.' I whispered.

Despite the disappointment in his eyes, he wrapped his arms around me, and pulled me onto his lap, like I were a child. I buried my head in his neck and wept. He stroked my hair and hushed me. Years before it all, and even when it was happening, I would hardly shed a tear, but since, I had found myself in tears most of the time, and Peeta would always comfort me. He would calm me down with old stories, and sometimes he would even sing. He really was too good for me, and I would never deserve him. When I had calmed enough to speak, I twisted myself on his lap to face him. I cupped his face in my hands, and looked him in the eyes.

'One day, Peeta. I promise you, I will be ready one day, but not now.'

Hope flared in his eyes.

'I wouldn't ask for anything more, Sweetheart.


	2. Message to my readers

Hey Everyone!

After an overwhelming response in regard to my story (That is, someone actually read it!), I have made a decision. I never intended for it to be any longer, but I have decided to write a few more short stories, set after the events of the series. Do you want to find out what happened to your favourite character?

Just send me a message, and I will _try_ to do justice.

I may even branch back out to Harry Potter. You never know…

Anyway, thanks!


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